3/28, Two of Cups, fiction
Title: Standing Outside the Fire
Author: Knightmare_shad
Type: Fiction
Length: 1249
Main character or Pairing: Harry/Draco
Card: Two of Cups
Card Interpretation: The Two of Cups tells you to look for connections in your life, especially those that are one-on-one. Now is not the time to separate or stay apart. It is the time to join with another and work as a partnership. If you are in conflict, look for truce and the chance to forgive and be forgiven. If you are struggling with two choices or tendencies within yourself, seek to reconcile them. The Two of Cups shows the beauty and power that is created when two come together. The card is indicative of marriage, romance, passions and emotions. A partnership may be indicated.
Rating: R
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Warnings: Violence, Pre-slash
Summary: After the final battle, all Harry wants to do is hide where no one can find him. He succeeds, maybe too well.
Author Notes: Thanks to Nori for allowing me to pester her at one in the morning (my time, which makes it much later for her!), and for Windsong for the beta. Partially inspired by Garth Brooks' song, Standing Outside the Fire
Harry slumped against the White Tomb, dragging in ragged, gasping breaths as he stared at the limp form lying on the ground in front of him. After all this time, after all he’d been through, how could this be the end?
The air churned with dust struck up by a thousand feet; he could hear screams and cries floating around him. The smell of blood and burned flesh, released bowels and mud, caused bile to rise into his throat. He slid slightly on the white marble, his hand leaving a vivid red track along the pristine material.
A soft chuckle escaped. So, this was to be the end. Fitting, really. He’d done his duty, after all. Dumbledore’s man, through and through. He’d slogged on and destroyed Horcrux after Horcrux. He’d bitten down his hatred and bile and anger for the man who’d brought about the death of so many of his loved ones, made peace with his one time rival, and had spent most of his time with them and Ron and Hermione. He’d done the research, he’d fought for the Horcruxes, and when it all came to a head, he’d done what he’d been chosen to do.
He fought to breathe as he slowly fell to the ground. Looking around with wild eyes, he tried to see how the battle was going. Were they winning? Which side? Every breath caused a grating, burning pain inside, and it hurt to even think. He was tired, and hurt. It was time to let go.
He closed his eyes, finally resting on the ground, and took one last breath, wishing it wasn’t filled with the stink of death and destruction. Something touched his cheek and his eyes flew open, but he couldn’t see; all was black as he slipped away.
~*~
“Will he survive?”
“We can’t tell at this stage…”
“The chances are improving every day.”
“But he still hasn’t come out of it…”
“Patience, Ms Granger, patience. He has to have time to heal.”
The voices floated around him, through him, but never seemed to actually affect him. He was aware of being touched, moved, of the various things they did to him and for him, but it wasn’t immediate, wasn’t important. Harry stayed where he was, in that quiet, still place. It wasn’t bright and cheerful, it wasn’t pretty, but it was peaceful.
He wasn’t aware of how much time passed. The landscape never changed, but it was comforting. He wandered about, sleeping when he wanted, never seeming to need for anything else. Here nothing bad happened. No one left, no one died. Here, he was protected.
“You can’t stay here forever, you know.”
He looked around the grey, featureless landscape, searching for who had spoken.
“You’re being a coward.”
“I am not,” Harry hotly defended himself.
“Yes, you are. Do you enjoy it here?”
“It’s safe.”
“Safe. The pride of Gryffindor, staying all curled up inside himself, where it’s safe.”
“I’ve earned it, haven’t I? Being safe?”
“You’ve earned the right to live. You’ve given the right to live to so many others. Some of us wouldn’t have had a second chance without you. We might even like a chance to properly thank you.”
“It hurts out there.”
“Awww, does ickle Potter want to stay where he can never be harmed? Life is not lived unless you dance in the fire, Potter.”
“I…”
“Nothing to say? Tell me, Potter, do you want to live?”
“I... I don’t know. What is there to live for?”
“Oh, how pathetic. If you expect me to list all your friends and family, that stupid Weasel clan, the Mudblood, all those who wish to proclaim your greatness from here to the farthest reaches of the Continent, you are sadly mistaken.”
“You don’t know what it’s like! I have no-one, nothing left!”
“Bullocks! You’re not that blind, even without your glasses. Damn you, Potter. Damn you for being this bloody selfish. I hate you for hurting everyone this way. I hate you for hurting me this way. I hate you for making me feel this way, for being you. Most of all, I hate you… because I love you. You want to be a coward and run away, fine. Do it in the real world, where we can chase you down and hold you till you see reason.”
“You are an arse.”
“That has never been in doubt. You want a reason to live? Live because you must. Because you want to. Because you want to laugh, and love, and fuck, and scream. Because you want to travel, because you want to stay home. Because you want to have children, or just be the fun uncle who riles the young ones up on sugar and Butterbeer before packing them home to mum and dad.”
“All that?”
“Live, Potter. Live for you.”
~*~
Harry slowly opened his eyes, closing them hurriedly when the light blinded him to tears. He waited a moment before trying again to open his eyes. He’d expected he’d be in a hospital bed, not in a four-poster in a strange bedroom. He blinked, lifting an arm to wipe the moisture away.
“Finally awake, are you?”
“You?”
“Me.” Draco sat beside him on the bed, holding out a goblet. “It’s a potion; drink up.”
“Where am I?” Harry asked suspiciously.
“Before you go and get all worked up, you’re in Grimmauld Place. Granger and Weasley are downstairs right now.”
“How did you?”
“You needed to come out of it, Harry. You couldn’t stay trapped in there, like that.”
“Why would you care?”
Draco stared into his eyes, a slight flush covering his cheeks. He shrugged casually, but the tightness in his voice betrayed him.
“Maybe I don’t.”
“You know, I can always tell when you lie,” Harry said, finally accepting the goblet. He sipped at the potion, his eyes never leaving Draco.
“Oh?”
“Yeah, your lips move.”
Draco actually chuckled at that, and Harry smiled. He reached out, capturing Draco’s hand with his free one.
“Thank you.”
“For what?” Draco’s voice dropped to a whisper.
“For loving me?”
Draco shook his head, but his cheeks burned redder. Harry took another sip out of the goblet and, turning slightly, noticed a second goblet resting on the side table that nestled against to the bed. He placed his next to it and turned back to face Draco.
“I have to take healing potions too,” Draco said, shifting uncomfortably.
“Where’s Ginny?”
Draco snorted softly in contempt. “She left, not soon after I brought you in from the battlefield. She’s somewhere in England, but no one really knows where. She sends a letter now and then to her mother.”
“Why?”
“I may have given her the impression that we were…ah…”
Draco smiled when Harry laughed. “And are we?” Harry asked, his grin growing wider.
“I don’t know, Potter. I’ve already been inside your mind. Seems your body is the next logical step.”
“Cheeky. What makes you think I’ll let you top?”
“Oh, so St Potter does know a thing or two,” Draco teased. He grew sombre, reaching out and placing his hand on Harry’s leg. “I’m serious, though, Harry. I have fallen in love with you. I’d like a chance.”
“A chance,” Harry repeated. He glanced at the goblets, picking them both up and handing Draco his. “To dancing within the flames. To a new beginning. To living.”
“I’ll drink to that,” Draco said before they both took a hearty swig.
Author: Knightmare_shad
Type: Fiction
Length: 1249
Main character or Pairing: Harry/Draco
Card: Two of Cups
Card Interpretation: The Two of Cups tells you to look for connections in your life, especially those that are one-on-one. Now is not the time to separate or stay apart. It is the time to join with another and work as a partnership. If you are in conflict, look for truce and the chance to forgive and be forgiven. If you are struggling with two choices or tendencies within yourself, seek to reconcile them. The Two of Cups shows the beauty and power that is created when two come together. The card is indicative of marriage, romance, passions and emotions. A partnership may be indicated.
Rating: R
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Warnings: Violence, Pre-slash
Summary: After the final battle, all Harry wants to do is hide where no one can find him. He succeeds, maybe too well.
Author Notes: Thanks to Nori for allowing me to pester her at one in the morning (my time, which makes it much later for her!), and for Windsong for the beta. Partially inspired by Garth Brooks' song, Standing Outside the Fire
Harry slumped against the White Tomb, dragging in ragged, gasping breaths as he stared at the limp form lying on the ground in front of him. After all this time, after all he’d been through, how could this be the end?
The air churned with dust struck up by a thousand feet; he could hear screams and cries floating around him. The smell of blood and burned flesh, released bowels and mud, caused bile to rise into his throat. He slid slightly on the white marble, his hand leaving a vivid red track along the pristine material.
A soft chuckle escaped. So, this was to be the end. Fitting, really. He’d done his duty, after all. Dumbledore’s man, through and through. He’d slogged on and destroyed Horcrux after Horcrux. He’d bitten down his hatred and bile and anger for the man who’d brought about the death of so many of his loved ones, made peace with his one time rival, and had spent most of his time with them and Ron and Hermione. He’d done the research, he’d fought for the Horcruxes, and when it all came to a head, he’d done what he’d been chosen to do.
He fought to breathe as he slowly fell to the ground. Looking around with wild eyes, he tried to see how the battle was going. Were they winning? Which side? Every breath caused a grating, burning pain inside, and it hurt to even think. He was tired, and hurt. It was time to let go.
He closed his eyes, finally resting on the ground, and took one last breath, wishing it wasn’t filled with the stink of death and destruction. Something touched his cheek and his eyes flew open, but he couldn’t see; all was black as he slipped away.
~*~
“Will he survive?”
“We can’t tell at this stage…”
“The chances are improving every day.”
“But he still hasn’t come out of it…”
“Patience, Ms Granger, patience. He has to have time to heal.”
The voices floated around him, through him, but never seemed to actually affect him. He was aware of being touched, moved, of the various things they did to him and for him, but it wasn’t immediate, wasn’t important. Harry stayed where he was, in that quiet, still place. It wasn’t bright and cheerful, it wasn’t pretty, but it was peaceful.
He wasn’t aware of how much time passed. The landscape never changed, but it was comforting. He wandered about, sleeping when he wanted, never seeming to need for anything else. Here nothing bad happened. No one left, no one died. Here, he was protected.
“You can’t stay here forever, you know.”
He looked around the grey, featureless landscape, searching for who had spoken.
“You’re being a coward.”
“I am not,” Harry hotly defended himself.
“Yes, you are. Do you enjoy it here?”
“It’s safe.”
“Safe. The pride of Gryffindor, staying all curled up inside himself, where it’s safe.”
“I’ve earned it, haven’t I? Being safe?”
“You’ve earned the right to live. You’ve given the right to live to so many others. Some of us wouldn’t have had a second chance without you. We might even like a chance to properly thank you.”
“It hurts out there.”
“Awww, does ickle Potter want to stay where he can never be harmed? Life is not lived unless you dance in the fire, Potter.”
“I…”
“Nothing to say? Tell me, Potter, do you want to live?”
“I... I don’t know. What is there to live for?”
“Oh, how pathetic. If you expect me to list all your friends and family, that stupid Weasel clan, the Mudblood, all those who wish to proclaim your greatness from here to the farthest reaches of the Continent, you are sadly mistaken.”
“You don’t know what it’s like! I have no-one, nothing left!”
“Bullocks! You’re not that blind, even without your glasses. Damn you, Potter. Damn you for being this bloody selfish. I hate you for hurting everyone this way. I hate you for hurting me this way. I hate you for making me feel this way, for being you. Most of all, I hate you… because I love you. You want to be a coward and run away, fine. Do it in the real world, where we can chase you down and hold you till you see reason.”
“You are an arse.”
“That has never been in doubt. You want a reason to live? Live because you must. Because you want to. Because you want to laugh, and love, and fuck, and scream. Because you want to travel, because you want to stay home. Because you want to have children, or just be the fun uncle who riles the young ones up on sugar and Butterbeer before packing them home to mum and dad.”
“All that?”
“Live, Potter. Live for you.”
~*~
Harry slowly opened his eyes, closing them hurriedly when the light blinded him to tears. He waited a moment before trying again to open his eyes. He’d expected he’d be in a hospital bed, not in a four-poster in a strange bedroom. He blinked, lifting an arm to wipe the moisture away.
“Finally awake, are you?”
“You?”
“Me.” Draco sat beside him on the bed, holding out a goblet. “It’s a potion; drink up.”
“Where am I?” Harry asked suspiciously.
“Before you go and get all worked up, you’re in Grimmauld Place. Granger and Weasley are downstairs right now.”
“How did you?”
“You needed to come out of it, Harry. You couldn’t stay trapped in there, like that.”
“Why would you care?”
Draco stared into his eyes, a slight flush covering his cheeks. He shrugged casually, but the tightness in his voice betrayed him.
“Maybe I don’t.”
“You know, I can always tell when you lie,” Harry said, finally accepting the goblet. He sipped at the potion, his eyes never leaving Draco.
“Oh?”
“Yeah, your lips move.”
Draco actually chuckled at that, and Harry smiled. He reached out, capturing Draco’s hand with his free one.
“Thank you.”
“For what?” Draco’s voice dropped to a whisper.
“For loving me?”
Draco shook his head, but his cheeks burned redder. Harry took another sip out of the goblet and, turning slightly, noticed a second goblet resting on the side table that nestled against to the bed. He placed his next to it and turned back to face Draco.
“I have to take healing potions too,” Draco said, shifting uncomfortably.
“Where’s Ginny?”
Draco snorted softly in contempt. “She left, not soon after I brought you in from the battlefield. She’s somewhere in England, but no one really knows where. She sends a letter now and then to her mother.”
“Why?”
“I may have given her the impression that we were…ah…”
Draco smiled when Harry laughed. “And are we?” Harry asked, his grin growing wider.
“I don’t know, Potter. I’ve already been inside your mind. Seems your body is the next logical step.”
“Cheeky. What makes you think I’ll let you top?”
“Oh, so St Potter does know a thing or two,” Draco teased. He grew sombre, reaching out and placing his hand on Harry’s leg. “I’m serious, though, Harry. I have fallen in love with you. I’d like a chance.”
“A chance,” Harry repeated. He glanced at the goblets, picking them both up and handing Draco his. “To dancing within the flames. To a new beginning. To living.”
“I’ll drink to that,” Draco said before they both took a hearty swig.